


Suns Never Set

by Starlithorizon



Series: Alchemy and Guitar Ties [19]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, really truly very established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 20:39:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlithorizon/pseuds/Starlithorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin and Arthur reflect on a long life together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suns Never Set

They'd been married for years and years and years, and they were still perfectly content to sit on the porch and hold hands. They'd put rocking chairs on the porch of their little Fitton house long ago, long after MJN had gone into Arthur's hands, long after Hannah had gone and grown up, long after Caitlin had become a mother (three times). They'd grown to be old men, and they'd done it together. They had seen the world, and nothing was as lovely as their own little corner of it, one man's palm warm against the other.

Arthur took a sip of his lemonade, watching a group of children play in the road in front of their house. As they'd been living there for nearly forty years, they were a fixture of the neighbourhood. The early neighbours had witnessed the Crieff-Shappey couple's sudden financial prosperity. They had watched as Martin acquired more vans and more movers, effectively beginning an Icarus fleet. They had seen the house fill with guests as they celebrated things, and mourned losses. They had seen the very last day that Captain Crieff-Shappey had been the captain of MJN Air, and the very last day that Arthur had been the steward.

They were beyond content with the life they had led, and there was no reason to believe that they wouldn't continue to lead it for decades to come. Both men had found happiness in the garden, and in various creative pursuits. While Arthur continued with his illustrious illustrating job, Martin had discovered a particular fondness for the written word.

And now, here they were, a couple of daft old men, sitting on the porch holding hands and drinking lemonade, the summer breeze warm and lazy as it drifted by and over their skin. The children sounded exuberant and blissful, and it warmed a silly little piece of each man's heart.

"What do you think we should have for dinner?" Arthur asked, closing his eyes and lazing a bit, the brush of his husband's fingers and the breeze putting him into a contented lethargy.

"Mmm, I'm not sure," Martin said. "Italian, maybe?"

When the sun dipped low and the children were called home, the old couple went inside to work on an easy pasta dinner. Even when they could quite safely be classified as Disgustingly Wealthy, they still lived frugally. They had grown most of the herbs and vegetables they used in their meal, and, well, everyone knows that pasta is cheap. Even two (shockingly successful) CEOs could actually _enjoy_ living so lightly.

They sat at their kitchen table with the meal they had prepared together and talked of easy little things. They studied the art that hung on the walls, the vast majority of it painted by Arthur. They reminisced and made plans and teased each other, all of it so comfortable and kind and easy.

It was a warm, sun-soaked love. Even now, well into their seventies, they sometimes had brief moments where they felt like silly, love-struck teenagers.

Like any (every) other night, they fell asleep with their limbs tangled and pleasantly worn. What they had would outlast the oceans and mountains and the sky. These last forty-or-so years had taught them that, and it was a lesson they heeded. It was what made them fall asleep quickly and easily with smiles on their faces each and every night.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry, this most assuredly does NOT mark the end of the story. There are lots of in-between bits to write, and maybe even scenes set after this one.  
> I'm pretty sure this thing is forever.  
> (Or until I run out of ideas completely, which is a very good incentive for you to give me prompts.)


End file.
